


gravity

by ballet



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Healing, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4933891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballet/pseuds/ballet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There were always walls.” Hinata’s jaw clenches. “I didn’t have a team in middle school. That was okay. I only played in one competition—that. That was okay, you know? I thought— it’s okay, if the walls are looming over me. As long as I keep trying. I can leap over the top. I can see it. The place…beyond. But—” There is a war forming in Hinata’s eyes, then, and Tobio can’t tell just what has won, when the other boy finishes, “What can I do now? The walls are still there. They’re still there, and I can’t climb a single one.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	gravity

**Author's Note:**

> 1) im so sorry for this. this haunted me in my sleep, and so, in turn, i thought: i must haunt the rest of the fandom. HAPPY….SEASON 2?
> 
> 2) formatting was messed up for like 2 minutes after i posted this….i put the numbers back according to each vignette. I APOLOGIZE
> 
> 3) kudos + comments are always lovely ;;;;A;;;;

 ☆

 

**1.**

The first time Tobio meets Hinata Shouyou, he has a '1' on his spine and a glare in his eyes.

 

The second time around, only the first part’s changed. Months later, Hinata is still glaring at him, autumn-hair bristled out like a halo. But now, he isn't crouched behind a volleyball net, isn't floating or making a beacon-leap. Rather, he's sitting in class, scowling in his school uniform, lips caught in a sneer when Tobio places a handout on his desk.

 

Tobio says, "You came to Karasuno," not quite like a question. But it's kind of strange. He doesn't recall seeing the other boy at the volleyball club, or anywhere, really, until now. School had started nearly a week ago, to boot, and this kid was totally the type to kick up a fuss. So why...?

 

"What of it?" Hinata snaps. _Hinata Shouyou_. Tobio's heard that name get called out during attendance for the past few days— over and over. Hinata sits all the way in the back of the room. Yet Tobio’s never turned to look. He hardly recognized the name, let alone the boy.

 

And with good reason— the Hinata of now is an eternity apart from the Hinata of last spring. Nothing is really bright about him; that notice-me smile is gone, and his voice is weirdly hitched and quiet. He’s a shard of the spiker Tobio had met— and Tobio, Tobio usually isn’t one to pick up on these things.

 

“What does it matter?” Hinata presses.

 

(He also isn't one to be disappointed in ghosts.)

 

Even so, Tobio still hazards the question. A touch haughtily, "I thought you were gonna join the volleyball club. To defeat me?"

 

Hinata grits his teeth. "I changed my mind."

 

"You're afraid?"

 

"I—" Hinata is swelling up and out, tension gleaming off him in spades. He's so small, Tobio thinks. Frail. That anger has nowhere to go. "I'm not. Just shut up, will you?"

 

But Tobio can't stop. "Why are you here?"

 

"I couldn't," Hinata starts, sentence breaking off. "Karasuno. I picked this place first. Before you. It's not fair."

 

Annoyed, "What's not fair?"

 

"I bet," Hinata accuses. "You don't even know The Little Giant."

 

Tobio asks, "Who?" right when the bell rings. He gives Hinata Shouyou one last, sidelong glance before moving back to his seat.

 

Hinata’s shoulders are bent, his neck craned. Head— bowed.  He doesn’t look up for the rest of the period.

 

**2.**

 

The image of Hinata Shouyou follows Tobio like a stray. Tobio feels kind of mean for prodding at him, but from what he could remember, Hinata’d seemed like the type to prod right back.

 

 

Apparently not. Tobio is admittedly _shit_ at reading people, so there’s that. His Mom chalks it up to him being ‘shy and brooding’. The volleyball team thus far has just deemed him ‘Emotionally Constipated’. Hinata Shouyou probably just thinks of him as ‘That Asshole’— possibly ‘The King of The Court’ if he’d been listening during their junior high match. Either way, they pretty much mean the same thing—

 

 “God _dammit_ —!” Tobio yells out, during practice. His arm flails a bit in the process, and so he ends up completely missing the ball, the toss— but _not_ the floor— when he lands smack in the middle of the court, graceless and grumbling.

 

(“LONG LIVE THE KING,” someone screams, from the back. Tobio’s vision is somewhat blurry, but he is willing to bet it was Tanaka. )

 

Suga rushes over first, holds up three fingers and asks Tobio to count them. Tobio says, “Three,” and everyone heaves out a collective sigh of relief. Tobio almost blushes over the attention, but then he hears Tsukishima and Yamaguchi snickering that _The Monarch Has Fallen,_ in low, shitty intonations.

 

The mood is quickly ruined.

 

Tobio gets up, says, “I’m going to…” He thinks for a moment, and settles on, “I’m going to wash my face.”

 

Nobody is about to squelch Kageyama Tobio’s quest for clean pores. So off he goes, ambling through the school corridors during after-hours, feeling awfully out of place.  The halls are stark and empty— beckoning, even. If Tobio were in a storybook, this would be the part when a phantom would appear, glimmering across the lockers.

 

But Tobio doesn’t like fairytales. They’re stupid, and always end with a wedding, or someone drowning. Let it be known that Tobio is a fan of neither of those happenings. He much prefers playing volleyball. And winning.

With that in mind, he’s ready to head back to practice, when he hears a stream of voices:

 

“…No, no, Hinata-kun! You place the stone here.”

 

“This is a strong attack.”

 

“Oh!” A familiar, canary-tone. Candy-bright. “Ah, I didn’t even think of that! I’m such a beginner, ha. Ha.”

 

“With practice…can…anything…” Tobio only catches a few more murmurs. He walks towards the room where the bustle is coming from.

 

Hinata—it has to be Hinata— says, “Practice, huh…” in a yearning sort of way, right when Tobio makes it to the door.

 

He peers through the window, gaze zeroing in on a burst of Jupiter-hair. Hinata is arched over what looks to be a board-game, dabbled with black and moon-colored stones. Tobio almost storms inside, almost yells out, _What the hell are you doing?_

 

But he doesn’t have to. Hinata’s eyes flit from the game to the door, as though he sensed Tobio’s presence— _phantom,_ Tobio’s mind supplies, _like a phantom._

 

Hinata’s expression is icy. He says, to one of the boys beside him, “Hold on,” and then he’s getting up, stomping towards the hall.

 

Tobio thinks, _shit_. Then, as he watches Hinata walk, he thinks, _was he always so slow?_ There’s something awkward about his movements, but the thought is gone as soon as Hinata stands before him, narrow-eyed when he says, “What are you doing here?”

 

Tobio almost stutters. “I could ask you the same thing.”

 

“This is the Go club,” Hinata tells him, sharply. “I’m thinking of joining.”

 

“What about the volleyball club?”

 

Hinata’s face changes. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because,” Hinata deflects. “Just because.”

 

“You said you’d beat me. I almost believed you,” Tobio says, regretting it in an instant.

 

Hinata’s fist bunches into the material of Tobio’s t-shirt, right where the number of his uniform would be. His hand is shaking, trembling, thin and bird-boned, but Tobio knows better. Tobio knows what that hand has done. Knows the practice and the calluses and the effort. He knows, he _knows,_ so _why isn’t Hinata_ —

 

“I can’t,” Hinata rasps. His shoulders shake— Tobio realizes, in sudden, dawning horror, that he might be crying. “I couldn’t if I wanted to, you asshole!”

 

“Hinata—” he starts, but then the other boy is letting go of him, turning back to the classroom. Hinata swipes at his face, and doesn’t turn back when he says:

 

“Just leave me alone.”

 

Tobio can only stare as Hinata leaves— and it is not until much later, when he is curling into bed at night, that he realizes that Hinata had been limping.

 

**3.**

_An injury._ Tobio wants to scream. Maybe even punch something. Hinata has an injury. How could he have not noticed?

 

 _I am an asshole,_ is a recurring thought. Another one is, _That is so unfair._

 

Because Hinata—Hinata had potential. Enough to catch Tobio’s eye. A gem in the rough. He wasted three years in junior high, and now— this? He can’t play for all the years to come?

 

How is that fair at all?

 

Tobio fumes over this for days. His teammates notice. Even Tsukishima backs off from the jabs, and Tobio doesn’t know whether to be grateful or even more confused. After four days of Failed Self Reflection, he decides to opt for Plan B.

 

“Suga-san,” he says, after practice. Suga perks up at the sound of his name, and Tobio shifts from foot to foot, eyes glued to his sneakers when he asks:

 

“Do you have time right now?”

 

**4.**

Suga looks like he’s crossed between tears and laughter when Tobio asks him, point-blank:

 

“How do you apologize to someone?”

 

**5.**

Hinata is absent from homeroom, here and there. Contrary to popular belief, Tobio isn’t self-centered enough to believe that Hinata is trying to avoid him. Hinata probably has doctor’s appointments, and Tobio feels the familiar threads of guilt gnawing at his gut whenever he thinks about it.

 

But then a week passes without Hinata coming to class, and Tobio starts to panic. What if he transfers schools? What if Tobio never apologizes? That would be a total _disaster_. Tobio can hardly even focus on _volleyball_ these days. He’s never been this affected by someone else, before—not even when Oikawa Tooru was at his throat. Not even when Kitagawa-Daiichi abandoned him, left him wide open. This is something else, a quiet, slow-burn sort of feeling.

 

Tobio is afraid.

 

So, when his homeroom teacher— a tall, bony man with glasses— asks for volunteers to bring Hinata Shouyou’s assignments to his house, Tobio’s hand shoots straight up.

 

**6.**

Unsurprisingly, it is not Hinata who answers the door. It’s a woman, with amber-colored hair and a soft smile.

 

She asks, “Are you a friend of Shouyou’s?”

 

Tobio blushes. “Um.” Is it alright to lie? “…Yes. I’m Kageyama Tobio, his classmate. I brought his homework, since he’s, um. Not been in school.”

 

“Oh, thank you very much,” she says, sincerely. “Please do come in, Kageyama-kun. Shouyou’s up in his room. I’ll bring you some tea—”

 

“Um, it’s alright,” Tobio tells her. “I don’t need…”

 

“Nonsense!” She beams. “You’re our guest! And besides, this makes me so happy. Shouyou hasn’t had many friends over, since…” She trails off, then, and Tobio coughs, clears his throat.

 

“Hinata-san,” he says, slowly. “Is… is Hinata… is he— okay?”

 

Her brows knit, in puzzlement. “Shouyou hasn’t told you?”

 

“Told me what?”

 

**7.**

A bike-accident. A speeding car.

 

He’s alright, now, Hinata’s mother had said, a breath away from weeping. It was a miracle. Alright everywhere but his legs. He can’t walk so well. Can’t run or jump. He spent the tail-end of middle-school through springtime recovering. Now, he goes to physical therapy every weekend. But it’s hard on him, she tells Tobio. It’s so hard.

 

Tobio leadenly climbs up the stairs, waits some time before knocking on Hinata’s bedroom door. His lungs hitch when Hinata calls, _Come in._

 

But he obeys. Counts backwards from ten, and then—

 

**8.**

 

Hinata goes white as a sheet when he sees Tobio.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Tobio holds out stack of ribboned papers. “I have your homework.”

 

Hinata doesn’t let up, though. “But why _you_?”

 

“I…” That’s an excellent question, really. _Why Tobio_? “I wanted to talk to you.”

 

Hinata frowns. “Why?”

 

Tobio is half-tempted to bolt. To sprint and hide and disappear. But he resists, somehow. He resists.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, instead, in a rush, and then, more gingerly, “I’m sorry about the things I said. I didn’t know. I was wrong.”

 

“You were wrong,” Hinata echoes, the words processing. “Who told you about me?”

 

“I… figured it out myself. A little while ago.” Tobio shivers. “But your Mom explained it to me, just now. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” Hinata says, automatically. “Listen, Kageyama. I’m fine. So you can leave, now. I’m not mad at you.”

 

“But you’re mad,” Tobio says.

 

“Of course I am,” Hinata says. “I don’t like it. But I always end up feeling angry.”

 

“Can you…” Tobio ventures. “Can you ever play, again?”

 

“Probably not,” is Hinata’s answer. “I…”

 

Tobio sits down on the floor, as Hinata curves in on himself, against the edge of his bed.

 

“There were always walls.” Hinata’s jaw clenches. “I didn’t have a team in middle school. That was okay. I only played in one competition—that. That was okay, you know? I thought— it’s okay, if the walls are looming over me. As long as I keep trying. I can leap over the top. I can see it. The place…beyond. But—” There is a war forming in Hinata’s eyes, and Tobio can’t tell just what has won, when the other boy finishes, “What can I do now? The walls are still there. They’re still there, and I can’t climb a single one.”

 

_If you’re the king who rules the court, I’ll just have to be the one who defeats you._

Hinata had been crying, that time. He isn’t crying now, but Tobio can tell he is aching for it. The release. The game, the net, the cheers, the glossy, wooden court.

 

_Hinata just wants to play volleyball._

 

And there’s nothing Tobio can do. Tobio, with his lightning-sets, his pinpoint accuracy. The words have followed him like beacons: _prodigy, king, genius_. But none of those things are of any use to him now, where he remains sprawled and awkward in Hinata Shouyou’s bedroom, grappling for the right thing to say, and coming so very short.

 

 _If you want someone’s forgiveness,_ Suga had told him, _you have to earn it._

 

Is that what Tobio is after? Hinata’s forgiveness? One look at Hinata, with his tired, tired gaze, and Tobio has his answer.

 

 _No,_ he realizes.

 

_I want—_

**9.**

“If you can’t climb a wall,” Tobio tells him, at length. “You have to break it.”

 

Hinata is about to open is mouth, to protest, to yell, but Tobio interrupts him.

 

He starts, “Hinata…”

 

**10.**

They play catch during lunch-breaks. Hinata is reluctant at first, says something about pity, and Tobio shoots that theory down in an instant.

 

“I’m doing this for me as much as I am for you,” he tells Hinata. “I want—” He glances to the sky. “I want to play volleyball with you, someday.”

 

 _Someday._ It has a false ring to it. A dreamy nuance. But Tobio has faith. Maybe a little more than Hinata. Hinata, who doesn’t shoot forward like a star, but still has his reflexes. Still can catch a ball with his eyes closed.

 

Hinata doesn’t end up joining the Go club. Or any club. But he still smiles more often. Allegedly, so does Tobio, according to the volleyball team. _Got a girlfriend?_ Tanaka has asked, on multiple occasions. _Who would date a loser like that?_ Tsukishima has supplied in rebuttal, numerous times, never one to be out of character for too long.

 

It’s nice. It’s nice for weeks, then months until, one day, in summer, Hinata asks, in a brave voice:

 

“Kageyama?”

 

**11.**

Hinata comes with Tobio to volleyball practice, that afternoon, a glimmer between his lashes. Tobio wonders if this is the first time he’s stepped foot in a court, since their match, way back when.

 

“Are you sure?” Tobio asks, for the fifteenth time. “You don’t—”

 

“I know.” Hinata grins, wistful. “I miss it. Playing. And even if I can’t, I can still. I can still try. In my own way. To see over that wall.”

 

Hinata’s hands are twitching. Tobio, without thinking, leans in close, twines their fingers together, just as the team begins to file into the gym. Tobio’s pulse is hammering, but he wills himself calm, for Hinata’s sake.

 

(Or so he tells himself.)

 

Minutes pass, and Daichi and Suga enter at the same time, Shimizu-senpai trailing beside them. Tobio straightens.

 

He calls out, “Excuse m—” but Hinata beats him to it. The smaller boy’s voice is loud, as booming as the first time they’d met. He squeezes Tobio’s hand, before yelling, for the whole room to hear:

 

“My name is Hinata Shouyou! I’m a first year! And I want to be a manager for the volleyball team!”


End file.
